


The Mother of Shadow

by Willow_mum



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And too tired, F/M, False God Ozma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JUST, Post Corruption Salem, Redemption, Volume 6 Spoilers, What They Deserved, and I refuse to accept the fact that ozma is anything other than sassy, basically salem learns how to love again, so many children running around in the castle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 08:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_mum/pseuds/Willow_mum
Summary: The Mother of Shadow is a myth whispered among children and parents alike. For the children it's a tale of justice and protection, a friendly monster in the closet that will fight against the demons in their home. But for parents, it's a cautionary tale to always treat one's children with respect and the love they're due, or to suffer the deadly consequences.This is the story of how that myth came to be, and how it may have prevented the worst war in the history of Remnant.(or, how Salem learned how to love again, before she could do something that she'd truly regret.)





	The Mother of Shadow

The first time it happens, it’s more of an accident, really. While she watches over her followers “spreading the word” during her daily routine and maintenance, her hand slips and the view shifts.

It’s no matter, though. All Salem has to do is wave her hand to get back to the matter at hand, but ... something stops her. Rather, someone. In this view, a girl, with blonde hair and a blue dress, cowers in fear. The child whimpers, before an angry man (her father?), cuffs her with enough force to knock her to the ground. Blood spills from a split lip, while the girl curls into a fetal position as the man sneers above her. He says something and seems to gear up for another wave of abuse. A grimace crawls its way onto Salem’s face, and with it so does a sense of dread. _In the back of her head she can hear the girl’s cries mixing with her own and father “please don’t hurt me, I’ll be better this time please don’t please don’t-_

His fist raises in the air and before she can stop it she’s already there, hands crackling with residual shadow in the dimly lit peasant-house.

She tears the man away from the girl without a sound, her furious expression obscured by darkness. Any remaining light leaves the room, while the shadows grow deeper, darker. Her voice is as thunderous as it is seething, filled with rage.

“How **_dare_ ** you, mortal, harm your _own_ ? How **dare** you betray the _sacred_ trust of parent and child?!”

With one hand she already has him off the ground, eyes wide and lungs gasping for breath. She can feel his pulse quicken beneath her grasp, beating wildly like that of a cornered animal. Salem smiles, and the expression is not a kind one as her heart clenches with the thrill of the hunt. Her grasp tightens just a little, nails digging in enough to draw blood. The man attempts to gasp out a pitiful plea for mercy, _“Spare me Dark One, please,”_ but Salem continues as if he hadn’t said a word.

“If you _dare_ harm another child, the shadows will claim you like the **monster** you are. And I will come for you, make no mistake.”

The whites of his eye bulge with fear and Salem holds back a cruel laugh. Seeing the man writhe gives her a sick sort of satisfaction, finally able to do to for this girl what she was never able to do for herself. She tosses him aside like a rag doll, disposing of him with a simple flick of her wrist. There is a loud whump and a groan, but then no more. The witch doesn’t bother to check if he’s still alive, rather she opts to sweep over to the girl, lifting the small blonde into her arms. Without another word, she brings the two of them somewhere _free_ , somewhere _safe_.

A rush of air follows their arrival, scattering nearby papers, but the gust barely phases her as she inspects the child for any sign of life. The girl lies limp in her grasp, and for a moment her heart clenches at the thought that she was too late, that the child is somehow gone, but then she feels the child’s slow, steady breathing and her worries are quelled. The girl will be fine.

It’s by now that she realizes the two of them are residing in Ozma’s study, and with that revelation, reality comes crashing down. What in the world has she done? And for a mere _mortal_ , no less. Not only has she gone into someone’s home and meddled in some random fool’s affairs, but she’s also _wasted_ precious time used to organize her troops. Salem almost lets the human fall from her grasp in disgust but stops when she feels an odd tug.

The child clings onto her robe with a sleepy smile, its seemingly fragile grip somehow holding onto the witch for dear life. Something stirs inside her chest, and with it so does a thought.

_Gods, I would do anything to keep her smiling like that._

It catches her off guard, but by now she’s struck with the worry that she might drop the child so she doesn’t really dwell on it. The girl whimpers and tugs again as Salem sets her down in Ozma’s reading chair, but Salem forces herself to let go. She’ll let the child rest here for now, and probably return her by morning. It’s the only logical thing to do, after all, she shouldn’t waste her time with a magic-less human. A mere follower. Yes, that’s right. She’ll let the child sleep here for now, and when morning comes, whisk her back to her bed. Seemingly in a daze, the witch steps back and stares off at nothing in particular.

While she congratulates herself on her plan to fix this nuisance, she pulls off her cloak, laying it over the child like an over-sized blanket. She’ll send the girl off in the morning so that she won’t be too attached. After all, that would be a hassle. Absent-mindlessly humming a lullaby, she carries the child to one of the castle’s many guest rooms and tucks her in gently, as to not wake her. The witch leaves the bedchamber, letting the girl dream safely in a warm, comfortable bed. By the time Salem herself has gone to bed, she has already forgotten about it all, just happy to be back in Ozma’s sleepy embrace. She can deal with it tomorrow.

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She forgets to return the child. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself. And then that’s what she says the night after that, and the night after that. And now that it’s been practically a week, it’s probably best that Salem doesn’t bring her back so that the child’s sudden return doesn’t raise suspicion. And well, she can’t keep the girl locked in the guest room forever. Instead, the child remains at the castle and is introduced to the other girls as a surprising but happy addition to the family. By some miracle, Ozma doesn’t even seem to notice new addition, but rather he pats her on the head and tells her to go play with her sisters while engrossed in the weekly reports on the kingdom. The girl, she later finds out from Mercy, is named Sarah. She’s obviously frightened by the fact that she’s woken up in a different bed in a seemingly different world, but the girls are quick to assure her that she is welcome in their home.

Sarah eventually grows comfortable at the castle, her once timid and frightened demeanor become more excitable and boisterous by the day. The child is free to do as she wants, free to be what she wants. The sight warms Salem’s heart.

And even though she tells herself that while everything is fine and dandy, this won’t happen again, she can’t stop herself when she sees another small girl, betrayed by those who should care for and love her. She takes her away as well, leaving the same warning. And after her, comes a small boy. Then after the small boy comes a young woman. And so it goes, on and on. They all live on the castle grounds, their laughter and joy bringing new life to its old halls.

One abused child after another is whisked away in the night, and before long the rumor of “The Mother of Shadow” haunts the kingdom. If a parent _dares_ mistreat their child, **She** will come for them and whisk them away, and leave a warning, and branding on the door. The homes that are branded are ostracized, shamed, and humiliated. After all, no one wants to incur **Her** wrath. Especially since whenever one does not heed her warning they’re found dead in the morning, the brand of “Mother Shadow” burned into their chest.

Salem can’t help but smirk at that last bit. A finishing touch, if you will. She did say that the shadows would claim them, didn’t she? And what better way to claim someone than with a deadly brand?

She watches through her crystal ball as a crowd pegs a man she branded the day before with rotten foods and stones, taking careful note of who participates and who shies away. Curious indeed. That is, she watches until she notices a persistent tugging at her skirt length. The witch looks down to see Sarah’s wide eyes staring up at her.

“Momma, why are you smiling like that? Can I see?”

Salem starts to say, “No sweetie, not right now,” but stops at Sarah’s puppy dog expression. Not this again.

When Sarah doesn’t get a full reply from her mother, she pouts and tries to stand on her tippy-toes to see what Salem is watching. Salem just barely manages to flick the view to a nearby open field before Sarah can see the fruition of her more unsavory labors.

_What am I doing? Especially with Sarah so near? I should have been more careful. Who knows what might’ve happened if she’d seen what those filthy humans were doing to each other. Granted, I was the one who set them against one another but-_

“Mother, look!”

Salem’s frantic train of thought stops as Sarah zooms in on the field eyes wide and excited. With a soft smirk, she pulls Sarah up onto her hip, allowing the girl to zoom in with the crystal ball so that they can better see the flowers. The view gets so close up that they can easily see a bee drift lazily by, sipping on nectar from the vibrant poppies.     

Soon the rest of the children pile into the room, drawn by their mother’s soft laughter and Sarah’s excited oohs and aahs. By the time Ozma arrives to investigate, they’re all watching the nocturnal animals, hushed and waiting with wide eyes as a pack of Beowolves lumber past. At the center of it all sits Salem, manipulating her crystal ball while laughing and whispering quietly to the children. The sight leaves a gentle smile on Ozma’s lips.

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But one morning, Ozma decides to say something to her. He doesn’t want to, as she’s been so much happier lately, but he can’t ignore it anymore.  They’re at, what, about 20 children now? That isn’t exactly something one can ignore. He brings it up while they’re both attending to their royal duties in his study.

“My love, where did we acquire so many children?” His tone is playful as he reads through the royal reports, but his expression says otherwise.

“Whatever do you mean Ozma?” Her tone is equally as sweet and playful, but she doesn’t look him in the eye, still reading through the paperwork. They haven’t exactly been talking much, for the past few months.

“Well, I was just wondering when I managed to sire over 20 children. Surely we haven’t had _that_ much fun in the bedroom lately.”

“...” She doesn’t respond, and while Ozma normally wouldn’t push it...

“You can’t steal children from their homes, Salem.” His voice loses its playful edge, replaced by steel. Salem responds with hackles raised.

“I’m not ‘stealing’ them from anywhere. I rescue them. Unless you mean to tell me that I was stolen as well, and I would be better off staying... _there_.” Her eyes narrow and her voice shakes as she tries to name that dreadful tower, but can’t. Damn that building and all it stood for.

Ozma raises an eyebrow at the weakness in Salem’s voice and finally looks her in the eye. Salem stares him down in return, fists trembling. The man just sighs and sets down his pen.

“Salem, love, you know that’s not what I meant.” He takes her hands in both of his own, offering a tired smile. “I’m not saying that I’m not happy with the children running around our grounds. They’re wonderful, and I love them all dearly, you know that.”

“... But?”

“But you can’t keep on punishing their pa-”

“Monsters. Those humans have no right to call themselves the guardians of those children. In fact, they deserve more than what they get from me.”

Ozma doesn’t seem to be taken aback by the venom in her voice, which surprises Salem. Instead, he just looks up at her with that damned _look_ of his, firm but pleading.

“I’m not saying they should go free either. But they need to see real justice. Not this.” And usually, Salem would be able to brush him off, to keep on doing what she needs to do to, but something stops her this time. Maybe she’s tired of their current standoff, or maybe it’s Sarah’s laughter echoing laughter down the hall.

“I… Well, what would you have me do instead?”

Now that did surprise Ozma. Usually, he’d have to wheedle and argue for days on end with her to get her to give in, but she just... He blinks rapidly for a moment before continuing with steeled nerves.

“We should have them punished by the state instead. Let our kingdom know that harming children like that never acceptable. The children can still live here, but instead of ‘Mother Shadow’ stealing them away-” Salem cringes a bit at the name, a faint blush dusting her cheeks as Ozpin gives her a teasing look. “-the Royal Family will be able to formally adopt them. Then they’ll be free to do and grow as they wish.”

Salem tries to find fault in Ozma’s idea. But for the moment, all she can think about is the loss of her own satisfaction of watching those beasts squirm. And well… that isn’t exactly helping the children.

“... What would the official punishment be?”

“It will depend on the case, but the worst will have life imprisonment. Not death.”

“They deserve worse.”

“They do, but we have to be better than that. You told me that we could lead this world, and become its sources of inspiration. Justice will always win over fear when it comes to inspiring the people.”

“... I’ll think about it.” Salem mutters after a moment, turning away, back to her own set of papers.

And while to most this would seem like a loss, Ozma already knows that he’s won. The seeds have been sown, and he can already see the contemplating look in Salem’s eye. Nothing left to do but wait, and continue to sort out paperwork.

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When Ozma finally leaves Salem alone in their study, the woman allows herself to slump in her chair. Gods, what was she to do with that man?

Still, he had a point. She couldn’t keep punishing people for her own needs. It was about the children. And if this helped them…

She needs some time to think about it.

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His attempts bear fruit when they’ve reached about 25 children. Perhaps about 6 months later? Quite a few of them have already grown and left, ready to face the world. The sight of them going brings an ache to Ozma's chest, but he knows they’re better off living freely in the kingdom as they please.

It certainly means a lot to Salem, as with every departure she hands them a personalized rucksack, ready for their travels. It’s on one such day when Sarah is finally ready to leave. To Salem, the past few years have felt short, almost too short. Her hands shake as she hands Sarah her pack, before, the two join in a tight embrace.

“Be safe now, you hear me?” Salem whispers into the child’s- no, her child’s hair, trying to hold back tears.

“I’ll try, mother,” Sarah squeezes just a bit more, before letting go with a watery smile. Ozma steps forward to present his farewell gift, a sturdy quiver stocked with enchanted arrows. Sarah accepts it with an even brighter smile, slinging it around her waist before pulling all three of them into a warm embrace.

“I’ll make you proud, so don’t worry about me, okay?” her daughter whispers, and Salem has never felt more pained in that moment. She almost opens her mouth, to beg Sarah to stay, safe in their home where Salem can protect her vibrant, youthful spirit from the crushing outside world, but doesn’t because her daughter deserves to be _free_.

It’s only when she watches Sarah wave her goodbyes, heading off on an adventure of her own, that the old witch realizes that she has never loved her life more than she does right here, right now. She stands there for a good few minutes, watching her daughter get smaller and smaller on the horizon, only turning to go inside when Ozma places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

When they’ve finally made it back to the study, she pulls out a stack of papers hidden away in a drawer for the past few months, handing them over to her husband. Each is properly stamped and signed, ready to be sent out immediately for the royal decree. When he reads them, his smile is warm and grateful.

“Thank you, my love.”

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In time, the legend of the Mother Of Shadow fades, along with the fear in the kingdom. In its stead, grows a new legend.

A King and Queen, bound together forever, protecting the unwanted and unloved children of the land. The Kingdom no longer actively attempts to conquer its neighbors, instead promoting peace and partnership, bringing an era of prosperity.

Salem, once engrossed in her bitter need to destroy humanity and sow chaos, finally sees the good in the world through the eyes of her children. She and Ozma live together in their castle, raising on generation after the next, becoming beloved by their subjects, many of which personally remember their time under the care of their Queen Mother, and their old and wizened Father.

In their later years, the four relics are acquired, and used to summon the godly brothers. The moment the beings arrive is tense and terse, but a relief nonetheless when Ozma is relieved of his calling and Salem is finally allowed to rest. Humanity has been judged worthy, and the gods no longer need to meddle with their experiment. Instead, they leave Remnant to itself, and the golden era continues for centuries to come.

The two spend their remaining years at peace, happy till the end.


End file.
